Chapter 28 Rowan
ROWAN
Flames crawled up the wooden beams of the barn, hungry and alive, crackling and spitting as they swallowed everything I loved. Smoke burned its way down my throat, thick and suffocating, while sparks drifted through the air like rising stars.
The horses were screaming.
High, terrified whinnies that ripped straight through my chest.
“Easy, easy… I’m coming!”
I tried to reach the doors, but the heat pushed me back, the metal latch glowing red beneath my fingers. Inside, the horses slammed against the stalls, their bodies frantic, their eyes wild with fear as their terror took hold.
“Please!” My voice broke.
A beam cracked.
Then another.
The roof groaned.
And then the whole thing collapsed inward in a roaring wave of fire.
Their screaming stopped almost immediately.
I jerked awake with a sharp gasp, my heart pounding violently, my breath coming fast as I tried to ground myself, to remind my brain that it wasn’t real.
There was no fire and no smoke—not here, at least.
Here there was only darkness, warmth, and the feeling of strong arms wrapped around me.
I lay still, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. His chest rose behind me, solid and reassuring, his arm draped protectively over my waist even in sleep.
We were in the safe house.
I slowly relaxed, letting the nightmare slip away, though the ache it left behind lingered like a bruise that might not heal.
Carefully, I turned in his arms, noting that Tex was still asleep.
Even like this, he looked dangerous and frustrated. His jaw was rough with stubble, his brow slightly furrowed like even in sleep he couldn’t fully relax. One hand rested near the gun at his side, like his body instinctively knew to be ready.
I studied him quietly, trying to figure him out.
He was a contradiction, both violent and gentle, gruff and unexpectedly thoughtful. He was a man who could, and would, kill without hesitation, but also a man who would cook dinner and light candles for me.
And the more time I spent with him, the less I understood where I stood.
Because I was feeling things for him. Things I shouldn’t have been feeling. Not with a man like him and definitely not when my life was falling apart.
But the way he held me and the way he looked at me, I had a feeling he felt it too. And somehow, that scared me more than anything else. Because what happened when this was over?
If it ever ended.
If I lived through it.
I didn’t know what the future might hold, and that had never bothered me before, but it did now.
I swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. I needed to focus on staying alive. Focus on figuring out how to help instead of just hiding, because I hated feeling helpless.
I hated that they were risking everything for me while I sat there doing nothing.
I was still staring at him when a sharp knock came on the door, interrupting my thoughts.
Tex moved instantly.
Before he was even fully awake, his hand grabbed the gun, his arm coming up in one smooth, practiced motion. He sat up halfway, aiming toward the door, eyes sharp and alert.
The door cracked open.
“Easy, bother!”
Moose froze in the doorway, hands slightly raised, clearly startled by the sight of Tex pointing a gun straight at him.
“Jesus, man,” Moose muttered.
Tex blinked, fully waking now, lowering the weapon slightly but not setting it down. “What?”
“It’s time to move,” Moose said quietly. “JD wants you both up. We’re heading out in ten.”
Tex nodded once and Moose stepped back, closing the door behind him. Tex exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before setting the gun down back beside him.
I pushed myself upright. “What now?”
He looked at me, his expression already shifting back into something harder. More distant.
“We move you to another safe house,” he said. “Then I go hunting.”
My stomach tightened. “Hunting?”
His jaw flexed. “I’m gonna find the men who took your ranch, Rowan. The men who killed your animals and threatened you.” His eyes darkened. “And I’m gonna make them pay.”
Fear twisted in my chest. “Tex…”
He started getting off the bed, but I reached out, catching his wrist. “What if…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “What if I asked you to stay?”
He went still and I swallowed.
“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly. “And I don’t… I’ve lost so much already, Tex. So many people. Everyone I know. I don’t want to lose you too.”
The words hung heavy in the air. His gaze locked on mine. And for a moment everything else faded.
For a moment it was just him and me and the feeling we were both trying not to name. Because I saw it in his eyes and it was the same thing I felt.
But neither of us said it, because saying it would make it real, and real meant something neither of us were ready to face. Not yet.
Tex’s jaw tightened slightly. “Please don’t ask me that, Rowan,” he said quietly.
My chest ached. “Why?”
“Because I need to do this,” he replied, voice low but certain. “I need to be out there. Doing something. Not sitting here waiting for them to come at you again. It’ll kill me not doing anything.”
I nodded slowly, even though part of me wanted to argue. Because I did want to ask him that! I wanted to beg him to stay.
“Okay,” I whispered instead.
Something softened in his expression, just for a second, and then it was gone and reality came rushing back in.
The drive felt longer than it probably was, and no one spoke much.
Tex drove an old truck instead of his bike so that he could be with me, but his bike had been placed in the back.
His hands were steady on the wheel, his jaw tight and unreadable in the dim morning light.
I sat beside him in silence, watching the world pass me by in a blur of fields and mountains.
I was wrapped in one of his hoodies, the sleeves too long, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to the fabric, and it somehow grounded me.
Behind us, two bikes followed—Moose and Swampy. Even wounded, Swampy had refused to stay behind. The bullet had gone clean through his shoulder, and apparently that was reason enough for him to “walk it off.”
I didn’t understand these men and I wasn’t sure I ever would.
The roads grew narrower the farther we drove. Asphalt turned to gravel, gravel to dirt, the trees closing in around us like they were swallowing the world behind us.
It was quiet out here, isolated. It was exactly the kind of place someone would disappear.
Finally Tex slowed, turning down a narrow road that looked like it hadn’t seen regular traffic in years. Tall grass brushed the sides of the truck, and the trees thickened overhead, casting shadows across the path.
Then I saw it—the old mill.
It stood at the edge of a slow-moving creek, weathered wood and stone darkened by time. The wheel no longer turned, frozen in place like a relic from another life. But the closer we got, the more I saw the changes.
There were reinforced shutters across all the windows and tall, heavy steel doors. Tex pointed out the security cameras tucked discreetly beneath the eaves.
This wasn’t abandoned, this was fortified.
Tex parked and killed the engine, and for a moment neither of us moved to get out. Two prospects sat in the back of the truck and they jumped out, leaving us momentarily alone.
“We’ve used this place before,” he said quietly.
I nodded, taking it all in. It felt…safe. Or at least safer than anywhere else had lately.
The bikes pulled in behind us, engines cutting out. Moose swung off first, scanning the tree line automatically, while Swampy followed, his movements slower but still controlled. Another two bikers pulled into position and I swallowed down my rising fear.
Tex stepped out and came around to my side, opening the door before I could reach for it.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He helped me down carefully, his hand lingering at my waist a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.
Moose approached. “All clear,” he said.
The steel door creaked open as we stepped inside.
The interior was surprisingly comfortable—basic but functional. A couple of couches, a small kitchen area, reinforced windows that let in filtered sunlight. It felt lived in. It felt prepared. Like they’d been expecting this kind of situation all along.
I moved slowly through the space, absorbing it.
“This is…nice,” I said softly.
Swampy snorted. “‘Nice’ ain’t the word I’d use.”
But there was no real bite in his voice.
Tex set a bag down on the table.
“You’ll stay here, Rowan,” he said, and then he glanced at Moose. “I want two men rotating outside at all times.”
Moose nodded. “Already planned.”
I watched them quietly. They moved like this was routine. Like protecting someone under threat—like preparing for war—was just another day.
My stomach tightened again.
Tex turned toward me. “You’ll be safe here.”
I wanted to believe him, I really did, but safe didn’t feel real anymore. Not after everything I’d bene through so far.
“Okay,” I replied instead of voicing my concerns.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt heavier now, because I knew what came next…he was leaving.
To hunt.
To fight.
To kill for me.
And even though I understood why, it didn’t make it easier.
Outside, the wind moved gently through the trees, the old mill creaking softly as if settling around us. We were hidden and isolated. At least for now.